We Are Such Stuff
by Meg Kenobi
Summary: When a foolish mistep puts Ron and Harry in the hands of fell creatures, it is up to Hermione to save the two before the dark creatures lead their new master, Voldemort, directly into Hogwarts.


Meg Kenobi Rating: PG-13, as always  
  
Summary: The sixth year began innocently enough, even happily with Professor Lupin's return. But when a foolish mistep puts Ron and Harry in the hands of fell creatures, it is up to Hermione to save the two before the dark creatures lead back the only master they know; Lord Voldemort.  
  
Author's note: The formatting of this chapter is a tad on the nightmarish side and I use excessive commas, but please forgive me; I had to lay my background ;) This chapter doesn't go very far, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm writing this rather fully. Besides, I'm betting you can guess where I'm going. What do you think? Please review! Sorry if you never wanted to read through an entire DADA lesson!  
  
Remus Lupin stepped before his N.E.W.T. level sixth years; the last class of his day, the last class of the first day of his return. He smoothed his new robes, purchased as a desperate detraction, hoping to push from their minds the image of the tattered, haggard werewolf. The dark bruising that lingered under eyes old beyond their years, however, betrayed not only his usual ennui, but a constant, aching sadness, the mourning of the survivor. He eyed the class, near silent in anticipation, finding eyes fixed upon him in wrath, curiosity, and, in the case of a precious few like Miss Granger, heart breaking pity and sincerity. He offered them all a casual remnant of his smile and began to speak.  
  
"Fairies. Or, the more appropriate plural, fey. You've dealt with their cousins; pixies, bowtruckles, and the like. But now you are growing ready to deal with the creatures themselves. We will be seeking them out later, but for now you must all properly understand these creatures to be safe near them. The fairy has earned itself an airy and fanciful place in Muggle art and culture, but that is very much a misconception. Much like the mermaid, the fairy is indeed a dark creature taken far too lightly. There are less troublesome fairies naturally, even those that are friendly towards wizards, but it is difficult to see through the guise of dark fey. The fairy is not a shapeshifter, per se, but its strong command of glamour magic allows it to present itself in many a deceptive way. Deception is, after all, the fairy's first defense. Furthermore, these creatures delight in tricking and misleading. They will settle for snaring a Muggle, but revel in exercising their mischief over a witch or wizard. . ."  
  
A particular trio of wizards, however, were paying him little mind.  
  
"But everyone knows about his -- well, you know, how can he be back?" Ron hissed, unable to hide his excitement at their favorite teacher's return.  
  
"It's rather obvious, isn't it?" Hermione whispered her patronizing response, "The Ministry and the Daily Prophet have spent the summer recanting every foul word they had to say about Dumbledore. He can instate whomever he wants, and if the parents think Dumbledore thinks he or she will prepare their children to face --" her voice dropped considerably, but she continued with a new found courage, "to face Voldemort, they will gratefully accept that person, werewolf or not."  
  
"I wonder why no one told us though?" Harry wondered aloud.  
  
". . . Fey are known to make two creations to fool humans. The first of which is fairy glass, with which they make baubles to lure humans off paths. Such pieces cause the beholder to become mired in memories, straying into traps. Legend holds that they have spun entire mirrors of the substance and that upon looking into such a mirror, one sees his own standard of perfection reflected back. The reflection is, of course, false, but nevertheless could cause one to become transfixed with what they see, however unreal and unattainable. I have never seen such a mirror, nor do I know of a single one to actually exist, but it would be a nasty tool, typical of fairy magic. . ." Professor Lupin was speaking, but the three neglected what he was saying.  
  
"I wonder, Harry, maybe Dumbledore wants him close by for more reasons than just to teach?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, he has lost everything, hasn't he? Two of his best friends are gone, the third is a Death Eater. The better half of the wizarding world knows of his lycanthropy."  
  
"What are you suggesting, Hermione?" Harry whispered dangerously. She looked taken aback by the sudden sharpness of his voice and shrugged timidly.  
  
"It's just that he hasn't much to lose, does he? Perhaps Dumbledore's afraid a little too much Sirius rubbed off on him, that he could become . . . reckless."  
  
"That makes sense, Harry," Ron agreed, nodding, trying to read the cold look in his friends' eyes, the hidden implications that haunted everyone's words as of late. He was only vaguely aware of Professor Lupin speaking continuously over their conversation.  
  
". . .There is then, of course, fairy water, collected in pools disguised as springs deep within fairy hollows. Odorless, colorless, tasteless: it is near impossible to distinguish it from true water. Master Snape could better explain to you its properties and composition, but to drink it, the result is unavoidable. You become trapped in a living dream, unable to wake yourself as your body swiftly wastes away and the fey watch in delight. In this dream, everything you have ever wanted is true but perverted; the fairy is rather the opposite of a Dementor, paralyzing you with false happiness, rather than true darkness. While placing a simple iron knife in water will still any fairy enchantment, once drunken there is no simple incantation or potion to remedy your state. The afflicted must be persuaded to find the inconsistencies built by the mind's too swift elaborations, causing the fantasy to unravel. Only then will the dreamer be released -- Hermione, Ron, Harry, are you paying attention?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Hermione responded dutifully, blushing profusely; she had snapped to attention at the sound of her name. She hoped fervently he did not test to see if they indeed had, for she had no idea what he had been saying.  
  
"I certainly hope so," Lupin answered, eyeing them critically, "That goes for all of you, I will be collecting and grading your notes at the end of the week; I cannot impress upon you how vital this is for the N.E.W.Ts and your own safety. So if for any reason you feel your notes are incomplete," Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair as his gaze settled again on them, "You may find it advisable to brush them up tonight. Otherwise, there is no homework, we'll be viewing some slides tomorrow so you can rest your quills. That is all. Class dismissed."  
  
"Bugger, I haven't gotten down two lines of notes, have you gotten all he said, Hermione?" Ron muttered.  
  
"I was talking to you two, how could I have?" She was still red in the face, cramming parchment into her satchel and vowing to read the chapter twice that night.  
  
"You're the genius!"  
  
"Well, it's a good bit harder to be with you constantly jabbering like an excited puppy--."  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot," Harry cut into their bickering, sounding none too enthused as they left the classroom, "Hagrid wants us to visit Grawp with him this afternoon." 


End file.
